Sweet Georgia Belle: Peaches and Cream
by Jade R. Rayne
Summary: [AU-Modern, no walkers] At 18, young and naive, she fell for a boy who sold her freedom away and made her into a slave to his, and other's, desires. After enduring a year of brutality, an unlikely client showed her a first sign of kindness in months. Can she escape her situation with this man, better yet... will she let him help her or will she push him away? [Mature Content]
1. Broken

**WARNING: EXPLICIT MATERIAL AND VIOLENCE NOT SUITED FOR YOUNG READERS.**

**Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended, story is for creative sharing purposes only. All rights of Walking Dead to AMC (I guess).

**J.R.-** As usual, my grammar is not great and I write my stories late at night... please be gentle with the grammar and spelling issues that may be present throughout the chapters. Thanks for reading!

**Sweet Georgia Belle Peaches and Cream**  
_Chapter 1  
[Broken]_

Everyone makes mistakes, but when said mistakes are made and freedom is forfeited, one couldn't help but feel trapped and lonely.

How desperately lonely she was.

It didn't matter what she was doing, who she was doing it with or when—she always felt that it was wrong. She didn't have a choice, though. No, that was a lie, she had a choice. Conflicted, she always had to choose between staying alive and betraying God, or end up dead like her family.

Tonight was one of those nights. She was dressed in her shortest black, sparkling miniskirt and a deep crimson tube top that ended right above her navel. Her once glistening sunshine blond hair is now dull, drenched in hairspray and curled to a mass of blond waves.

She had always disliked the smell of cigarettes and drunks, and yet here she was in a bar waiting for her so called boyfriend to bring her to her next customer. The term 'boyfriend' is very loosely used here. It had started out the way an eighteen year old girl can only dream about—flirty kisses, picnics and harmless fun. That had been two years ago. What started as a beautiful relationship took a turn for the worse after her father died a year after she moved with her boyfriend to New York City.

Just the thought about her beloved daddy brought tears to her blue eyes. She wasn't even allowed to attend the funeral. Instead, that was the night she was forced to become a woman who sold her body for money. It wasn't as if she wanted things to turn out this way, it just happened. They were short on money with their paychecks spent, and heavily in debt. Her boyfriend then suggested her having sex with his boss to get some money for her to travel fees to her hometown and for a promotion.

_ "If you love me, you would do it for me, baby. It'll only be this once, I promise."_

He said it would be the only time; even then she was against it. He slipped roofies into her drink the next night, and well... When she woke up to the soreness between her legs, she knew what had happened. When she confronted him, he swore that was the one and only time she needed to do it. It was a damn lie, that's what it was. Not only did he keep the money, he locked her in their room for days before she was 'allowed' to come out.

Then the beatings came.

The rest is history.

A part of her was grateful he supplied her with a steady stash of condoms at first, but when he started to use the money for meth and heroine, she had to borrow some from the girls or steal them. She wasn't stupid enough to get knocked up and contract some kind of sexually transmitted disease. At least, her customers were the same handful for the past year. Apparently not many men find her small breasts and thin frame and Georgia accent attractive. Her bustier of friends was more sought out than her.

She was thankful she found a couple of good friends out of this ordeal. Tara and Karen, two absolutely beautiful and caring ladies looked out for her … they were also in the same shitty situation—sold. When Jeff had borrowed and owed so much money to a gang, he had 'sold' her to save his own sorry life. Whatever money she made from this ordeal, half went to repay his debt and the other half for his own personal use. And no one wanted to save a homeless, family-less girl.

Beth let out a sigh and gripped her drink tightly in her hands—she hated to think about it as much as she hated living. She tried once… dying. But in the end, Jeff 'saved' her and had beaten the pride out of her. Since then, six months ago, she stopped resisting.

"I got you a new one," his voice stirred up anger in her. She quickly dampened it, knowing fully well if he saw that anger or spark of anything in her eyes, he'll just beat her.

"A new one? I thought you said it was going to be routine today," she sighed, sipping her drink.

"Does it matter? Get your ass in that car and give me the fucking money tomorrow, bitch," he stepped close behind her, and gripped her arms painfully tight. From another person's view, he may have been looking affectionate and concerned, his words were anything but. "I don't give a damn what you think about taking a new one. I need a damn fix tomorrow and you better get me the money or I'm going to spread all your dirty little secrets to your hometown. Now, you wouldn't want that right, sugar? Black Mercedes, 5 minutes. Git," he shoved her towards the direction of the restrooms and slapped her butt hard.

She didn't bother to argue—it wouldn't do her any good. "'kay."

It didn't long for her to freshen up and stand on the curb in front of the club like a hooker. She laughed bitterly to herself, that's exactly what she is—a prostitute.

The flawless black Mercedes pulled up in front of her seconds later, the front passenger window rolled down, showing a highly attractive and well-dressed lady in the driver's seat. "Get in the back," she ordered without glancing at her and proceeded to roll the window back up.

Beth slipped into the back seat, her skirt riding up to the top of her thighs, barely covering her private. Without another word exchanged, the car started to drive to a location. A part of her hoped she was being kidnapped. Death would be her only salvation, she thought. The car soon stopped in front of one of a prestigious hotel. She knew it well… most of her clientele preferred high classed hotels to support prostitution.

"Put this on, go to the fifteenth floor, room 1509," the lady in the driver's seat tossed a black trench coat at her and tossed her the keypass. "Make sure you shower first," she hissed, pinching her nose shut.

"Yes ma'am," Beth replied with a bit too much sass. Not bothering to hear the lady's response, she slipped on the coat and secured it tight. She was grateful for that, even though she was in this profession, she still had some modesty left. The moment she entered the lobby, she knew what the receptionists were thinking… them and everyone else.

_Whore, slut, skank._ She knew those names too well.

With her chin held high, she dodged the wayward glances and headed for the stairwell. She knew better than to use the elevator. The trip to the fifteenth floor was exhausting, never had she gone up that far before. Usually it was the fifth or sixth, but never above tenth. This must be an important person.

_Well, at least I'll get some sleep tonight from all this exercise_, she grinned. She prayed for days where she could sleep undisturbed for at least four hours. Those days rarely happened. As soon as she stepped into the stairwell, a bellhop stood by the door of room 1509 and casted her a wary glance.

She ignored it and glaring at him; she slid her key into port and slipped into the room.

_Holy cow_, the room—no suite, looked like something from the cover of an upscale magazine. _This must definitely be an important person_, she mused. Locating the bathroom, she felt genuinely excited at the thought of using a freshly cleaned bathroom—that was utmost rare in her situation. She stripped herself of her dirty clothes and turned on the shower head.

Moans of ecstasy slipped passed her lips as the warm water soothed her aching body. Massaging her arms and legs with the soap, she moved her way up to wash her hair, but decided against it. It may ruin her makeup. Guys like these preferred people like her with skanky looking hair and makeup—it excited them.

She didn't know how long she was in the shower, in fact she didn't notice what the time was until her fingers started to prune and shrivel. She panicked—guys like these didn't want to waste their time and often deducted money for simple mistakes like these. Less money often meant more beatings, and that was something she desperately wanted to avoid. Jumping out of the shower, she quickly wrapped a soft towel around her and scurried out the bathroom.

"You took your sweet damn time didn't you?" she heard a rusty, deep baritone voice coming from the direction of the bedroom.

She made her way, cautiously to the bedroom, stepping through the sliding doors with her head forward, saving herself from looking at her customer. She learned her lesson from looking into their eyes, hoping they'll save her. All they would do is fuck her and move on. That's what they all did, and this man with the attractive voice would be no different.

"Sorry," she whispered, keeping her gaze down. She made her way to the large king bed, letting the body towel fall, she laid in the middle of the bed and closed her eyes. She guessed he didn't even bother to shut off the lights before he was on top of her.

His scruffy beard scraped against her skin, judging by its roughness, she assumed it to be a short one. After all, successful businessmen hardly had long beards. It didn't take long for him to spread her legs apart, groping at her womanhood and her breasts. His touches almost felt tender, but she knew better to link emotions with sex. She heard the familiar sound of a condom wrapper tearing and mentally kicked herself for forgetting the most important thing she could do for herself. She blamed the amazing shower for making her forget, but all thoughts escaped her mind when she felt him push into her, sending both pain and pleasure up her spine.

Normally, she would try to ignore it and lay still, but he felt different—she didn't know to explain it but she knew she would have a hard time trying to ignore the pleasure pulsating from her sex. The way he filled her, so completely, she couldn't ignore the way her body began to ache for him.

No, she had to focus. She couldn't bear to shoulder the disappointment of indifference of her customers anymore. She moved her head to her side and swallowed a moan, thinking about anything but the pleasure building in her lower pelvis. She thought about her father, their family farm, and the veterinary clinic her father once ran. She thought about her old high school friends, and wondered if they were married or have any children. She had always wanted children. The more the merrier. She thought… she and Jeff were going to be married with children, but how naïve she was.

Her thoughts soon evaporated her mind as he thrusted harder and painfully deep into her. She stifled a pained moan and stiffened her body, guarding herself for more pain. This normally did happen when she wasn't prepped properly. Ninety percent of the time, sex had always hurt… and had only had an orgasm once. Once in two years. Sadly enough, that was with the use of a vibrator and when no males were involved.

A few more painful jerks from his hips, he went rigidity as he finished his task. He laid stiff atop of her for a few seconds, catching his breath before rolling off of her. She continued to keep her eyes closed until she felt him leave the bed. The door of the bathroom clicked shut, signaling her that the task was done.

Cracking an eye open, she scanned the nightstand to the right of her, where he got off of. Sure enough, the distinct color of green bills glistened under the lamp. She reached over and grabbed the bills, but regretted the motion when a burning pain caused her to stiffen.

_Ughh, that'll hurt for at least a day_, she groaned to herself, knowing the sensation well. It had happen during the beginning when the customers were frequent and rough, but since she had lost weight and looked almost scrawny, she attracted customers who were less… well endowed. Except for this one, of course. Steeling herself against the pain, she sat up on the soft bed and pulled the bills to her lap. She counted the bills, one, two, three, four… five _one-hundred_ dollar bills.

Her jaw dropped—five hundred dollars. Wow. She did a double take, counting the money again. Sure enough, the count didn't change. She didn't expect any man could pay five hundred dollars for less than an hour's worth of time. Her worries of another beating disintegrated. With this amount of money, Jeff would probably even treat her to a good dinner. Maybe.

The door to the bathroom opened, and in came her customer. She made the mistake and looked up without thinking, catching a glance of his features. He was a very, very attractive man. He must be around his late thirties, she assumed. Steel blue eyes, rusty dark brown long hair, slicked back with water and a few specks of grey in his beard. There were wrinkles, but it fitted him along with the hollow expression in his eyes. It almost mimicked hers.

Neither one exchanged words, but he casted her a brief nod and grabbed his suit jacket before slipping out the suite door.

Beth exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding, and flopped onto her back, causing the bed to bounce with the action. "Well, at least I get to stay in this room for the night," she grinned. Sometimes, the customers would leave as soon as they were done and she was free to do whatever she wanted in the room.

The thought of another shower… no, a steaming hot bath made all her stress disappear. She tucked the money under the small digital clock atop the nightstand and headed towards the bathroom. A knock on the door stopped her in her tracks. She glanced down to only find herself naked and quickly pulled a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around her body.

She didn't bother looking through the eyehole to see who it was—she just assumed it would be her customer who forgot something here or the lady she saw earlier. When she opened the door, she took a step back in terror. "J-Jeff? What are you doing here?"

The stench of alcohol emitted heavily from his breath. "Where the money at?" He growled, leaning against the door frame for support.

"It's… on the nightstand," she whispered, taking another step back. She noticed the blood and swelling on his eyebrow and knew exactly what had happened. He most likely wanted a fix and didn't have money… used the drug and never paid. And now, now that he was here… she wasn't safe from his abuse.

"Well go get it bitch," he growled, shoving her backwards by her shoulders. He slammed the door shut and snatched the hair on the back of her head and hauled her roughly into the suite.

Despite her screams of pain and pleads for him to stop, he didn't. With her head in his hands, he stomped into the bedroom with her in tow, and snatched the money. "How much is in here?"

"Five…" Beth replied as best as she could through the searing pain on scalp.

"I need you to fuck another one tonight, I owe Big Mikey seven fifty," he hissed, releasing her hair and pushed her face towards the bed, causing her to trip and fall.

"Another? I can't… I need some time in between—," she was unable to finish her sentence when he pounced on top of her, ripping the towel off of her, and pinned her hands besides her head. "No, no, please Jeff! I can't, it hurts!"

"Does it fucking look like I care?" He began to unbuckle his belt, pushing apart her legs with his knees.

"Jeff, PLEASE STOP!" she cried, struggling against his tight grip. Her pleas fell on death ears when he straddled on top of her, already thrusting roughly in her despite her cries.

Unknowingly to them, the door to the suite opened.

Beth continued to scream, her voice growing hoarse, as the pain of her tearing into two took over her. "Please, stop… please," she cried, large tears slipping from the corner of her eyes. Jeff wouldn't have any of it. He slammed his fist into the right side of her face, above her eyebrow several times in attempts to silence her.

Before she could register what was happening, Jeff was roughly lifted up off of her. He groaned in pain when she heard a rustle of clothing and what sounded like a fist punching against soft flesh. Sure enough, when she was able to open her eyes through the pain, her customer… the man with the hollow eyes was landing blows of his fist onto Jeff's face.

"Stop, stop!" Jeff's hands flew up in defense, briefly stopping her customer in his rage. "What are you doing man?" he stumbled to stand on his legs, hunched over the side of the bed.

"You were raping this woman, _that's_ what's wrong you fucker," he spat, his chest heaving.

"She's my girlfriend! And, it's none of your damn business. I need some more money tonight and she ain't gonna make some more. I hav'ta discipline her somehow," Jeff hissed, his face contorted into an aggressive scowl.

"How much can she owe you for you to treat a woman this way?" Her customer hissed, reaching into his back pocket.

"Two fifty. That's just two more fucks, it's easy money. She enjoys being on her back and making money, don't ya sugar," Jeff directed his attention to Beth.

Beth dared not to speak; instead she covered her sobs with the discarded towel and attempted to shield her body from the two aggressive males.

Her customer yanked his wallet out of his pocket and tossed some bills at Jeff's feet. "Leave her the fuck alone for a couple of days, yeah?"

Jeff stared at the bills discarded at his feet, and grinned appreciatively at her customer, "Will do, partner. She's all yours for the next two days. Good luck with her, it took me six months to break her damn spirit." Bending down clumsily, he collected his money and stumbled towards the door, not bothering to cast another glance at Beth or the man.

Beth looked away when her customer turned around, both alone now. A part of her dreaded having to use her body one more time for the night—she was too badly abused and emotionally drained to do anything but lay down and wallow in misery and pain. She flinched instantaneously when the man shifted and started to head towards the bar of the suite. Her stiff flinch caused him to freeze in his steps; his gaze lingered on her before finally taking another step towards his destination.

She began to fear what was to come afterwards. She assumed he was going to get himself a drink, possibly get himself drunk and then have his way with her. Either way—she was powerless. She could escape, and had done so many times before… or at least tried to. Jeff and Big Mickey's goonies always found her and brought her back before beating her into a blood pulp.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't realize the man was sitting in front of her until he pressed something cold against her right eyebrow. Briefly, she recoiled at the contact, but the cold relief of ice soothed some of her pain away.

"Keep it on there or it'll bruise," she heard him say in his deep tone.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. After a long silence, she dared to question his next motive. "What… are you wanting me to do next?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm concerned," he cleared his throat and scooted away further away from her on the bed. "Should go take a bath or something, it'll help with the pain."

Beth looked up, shocked. Was he really going to let her be? She couldn't find any signs of deception in his eyes, and she had gotten with skilled with detecting lies from the last year. She couldn't exchange any other words with him. Her eyes welled up in tears; some of them had already fallen from her eyes. She bowed her head in shame and embarrassment. It would take someone witnessing a rape of a person to be kinder to them, wouldn't it? It was a bitter thought, but pain… misery and disappointment were the only things that were consistent with her life as of late.

He placed a card in front of her, but she didn't move or care to acknowledge it. He shifted in his seat before standing up with a sign, adjusting his suit and sleeves, he began heading towards the door. "Stay here for a couple of days… and… don't open the door for anyone but room service. Even then, you have to be careful. I'll tell my assistant to bill me the tab… don't worry about it," his voice rasped cautiously before disappearing into the hallway with the click of the door.

The moment the door clicked shut, the dam that was holding her tears at bay broke, and she was tossed into a crying fit. Her hands clenched together in front of her chest, trying to ease the pain that had built up in her heart. She was grateful, as she cried that no one was there to witness her weakest point.

She hated it all, her life, her situation, her father for leaving her and her sister running away. She was all alone in this world, with no kin to call and ask for help. Even then, if she did… Jeff and his friends would never let her off… and they would hurt her loved ones too.

That was the only thing that kept her from running back to her family farm. If he knew she had the deed under her name, he would take it and sell it to anyone at any price if it meant he could have another fix. The only highlight of her life in the past two years was the vision of Jeff getting pummeled by her most recent customer.

It was definitely a sight for sore eyes, and for now, she was safe. Maybe for a couple of days, she will be. With the money Jeff got, he probably will be all stocked up and high for at least three days. She couldn't count it all, but she saw at least another six bills, twenties or hundreds, she wasn't too sure.

And all this from a stranger. She gingerly picked up the business card he had placed onto the bed in front of her. All it had on there was a name and a phone number right under it.

She tested his name on her lips through watery eyes and thanked the Lord for the grace of this man named, "Daryl Dixon."

/

**J.R.-** yeah, it's a little dark... but I don't know why… I couldn't sleep and this plot had been stuck in my head the entire time. Can't promise the chapters will be 4k words all the time, but I'm not quite sure if this story will be a long chaptered story. Haven't figured it out that far yet.

Please review! Thanks for reading!


	2. Alleyway Bar

**Warning: Explicit cursing**

**Sweet Georgia Belle Peaches and Cream**  
_Chapter 2  
[Alleyway Bar]_

Daryl chewed on the tip of his thumb, angrily waiting for his brother to pick up the phone. It was the fourth time calling his damn brother, and still the damn boy wouldn't answer. He had every mind to drive up to his place and barging into his room and haul his sorry ass from between a whore's legs. He knew that's what he was doing now—no doubt about it. After all, it was what got him into his current predicament.

"It'll be fun he said, it's gonna make that stick from up your ass disappear he said. Fucking motherfucker. Gonna skin you alive when I get my hands on you," Daryl hissed as he mocked his brother with contempt.

He was about to hang up until the receiver of the other line picked up.

_"Lil' bro! You done already? Man, here's me thinking you gonna rut all night!"_ the voice laughed merrily from the other line.

"Fuck, Merle! What the fuck were you thinking in hiring me a fucking prostitute?! You know that shit's illegal?!" Daryl flew into a rage, throwing his hands into the air before slamming his fists against the steering wheel. The air within his car grew dozens of degrees hotter, or at least that's what it felt like.

_"What the fuck are you talking about, baby brother? You didn't like her?"_

"FUCK, I fucking thought she was an escort like you said. I went to the fucking desk after… after _that_ to pay for the fucking room and arrange for the car to go the fucking event with her. Then I find her being fucking raped by her own boyfriend. What the fuck Merle?! The bastard said everything I needed to know about her. She's a fucking prostitute! How the hell you gonna do me like that, _brother?!_"

_"Whoa, whoa now Darylena. The management I spoke to said she was an escort… I's got fooled into this too. I'm gonna find his ass set things right. You feel better now?"_

"No. 'Cus the shit's been done and gone after I tossed him some money to get gone and leave the girl alone. FUCK, MERLE!" Daryl ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "She don't even look like she's fucking legal now that I'm thinking about it. Just about how much shit are you going to get me into before you straighten the fuck up? I'm a fucking cradlerobber if she ain't old enough! We're in this business together, but fuck Merle. I'm doing all the fucking work and you're fucking messing 'round all the time!"

_"Don't get your panties in a bunch, baby bro,"_ his voice sounded constrained albeit apologetic as well. _"I made sure I saw her I.D. She's definitely legal for sure brother. I know I fucking screwed up, 'kay? But I ain't never screwed up so fucking bad that it'll put you in harm's way. No one knows about this but you, me and the girl and that faggot I spoke to. That's it. No one says a word and you're good to go, baby bro."_

Daryl sighed through clenched teeth. He was tired of fixing his brother's mistakes. Actually, this mistake was his own… he should've known better. The way she just laid there, devoid of emotion. He never met an escort like that. Damn, he felt like shit.

_"Daryl?"_

"Yeah?" He responded in a weary tone, suddenly all energy and life from him drained away. He was thoroughly exhausted. He spent the past four hours looking for the girl after she disappeared from the hotel room. He wasn't about to report the assault. Fuck, she would've been arrested along with the both of them even if she was the victim. Today's society holds women accountable for deeds they couldn't even control. He pitied her.

_ "Where is the girl now? Do we gotta keep her mouth shut?" _

"Nah," Daryl immediately shut down the idea. He knew Merle worked in rough ways which sometimes were illegal. He didn't want to invite anymore trouble. "Just let it be. If it surfaces in the future, we can play victim too. I gotta go man." He didn't bother to let his brother answer before hanging up, then tossing the phone onto the seat next to his.

Fuck, he thought. Everywhere he spotted a girl with blond hair, he thought of her and her devoid-of-life piercing sky blue eyes. That was all that stood out to him. Other than the nasty chemical drenched hair and face slathered with makeup… he assumed she looked decently pretty, don't get him wrong… but fuck, he wasn't the one to go hire prostitutes. That $500 he set down was money to have her buy a semi decent dress for the birthday event of one of his directors, not to pay her for her 'services.' Shit, he was going to leave his credit card there in case it wasn't enough but he thought it would be a bad decision. To top it all off, when he saw her lying in the bed naked, he thought she wanted him to… ugh. The only damn time he tried something new.

The way she acted should've been a major red flag. But from all the damn stress and shit he had gone through the past couple months, he barely knew what's real and what's not. But damn, no matter how he did it or what he blamed, the truth is that he slept with a prostitute. A sex slave—a young one.

Daryl felt the bile rise up into his throat—he hated this feeling. He wanted to apologize but what could he possibly do now? She disappeared without a word after the returned from speaking with security down at the desk to make sure that faggot was gone. He was going to help her… somehow. The way that faggot treated her—it was no way to treat a woman. But fuck. He was shit of out luck.

He supposed it was just fate that she might be destined to lead this sort of life for the rest of her days, and there's not a damn thing he could do about it. There was nothing he could do now but to move on…

It was a new kind of low.

-0-

She still felt sore beyond belief, but it was a whole lot more tolerable than before. Beth didn't know if by God's grace Jeff didn't show his face around lately or if her last patron actually gave him enough money to burn for nearly a week. Then again, she knew his schedule like the back of her hand—it was how she avoided him and survived his brutality.

"You okay, sugar?" a concerned voice called out to her from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Yeah, just putting on some makeup," Beth quickly applied concealer and foundation on her face and did the best she could to hide the multicolored bruises. Most of them were old bruises, but there ones one prominent one fading from a dark bluish hue to yellow. It was the one that Jeff so graciously gave her before he forced himself on her in the hotel. She hated him. Hated life. She couldn't even stand the sight of her reflection in the mirror

"Beth?" the owner of the voice, Karen called out again.

"Coming!" Beth snapped out of her thoughts and quickly rearranged the products back to their places and opened the door. "'Morning Karen," she grinned meekly.

"Oh sugar…" Karen pulled her closer as she examined her bruised face. "That bastard has no claim on you, Beth. Why do you keep putting up with this nonsense?"

"I have nowhere else to go Karen… and if I don't… he'll let everyone in my hometown know what I've been doing…" Beth looked away, unconvinced herself.

"They'll understand! I don't want you to suffer anymore. I have some extra money saved up. Why don't you take it and just go? Out of the country?"

"Where am I going to go, Karen? I can only go so far before they find me again. For some damn reason they want to keep me in their web. And when they find me, they'll just beat me from an inch till death again. I don't want to feel that kind of pain again, Karen. I don't!"

"So the pain you feel when he rapes you is nothing?! Wake up, Beth!"

Their voices escalated higher and higher as the argument grew even more heated. Unbeknownst to them, a door from the hallway opened and soft footsteps pattered to them.

"Mommy… Auntie Bethy… too loud!" a small toddler with jet black hair and beautiful hazel eyes shrieked and started to bawl in his blue spiderman printed jammies.

Beth casted Karen an apologetic smile before rushing over to the toddler, gathering him up in her arms. "There, there Bubba. I'm sorry we woke you up, baby," she cooed into his small ear as she ruffled his messy hair. "How's about we go and get you some pancakes? You like pancakes don't you Bubba?"

The small child's large teary eyes lit up instantaneously, a large grin plastered across his chubby face. "Yeah!" He shouted and ran into his room, presumably going to dress for the event.

"He always calms down when you call him Bubba… and offer him pancakes…" Karen chuckled, albeit amused.

Beth shrugged, "I guess I have a way with kids. I hope to have some… eventually…"

_ 'When I get out of this situation… maybe then…'_

-0-

"Look brother… I got the situation settled with the idiot. Though it's true he ain't in good business, but if disclose this to the_ popos_, we'll be in trouble too." Merle was a tall, burley looking man. Scars marred his face, his teeth albeit yellow from decades of tobacco use and tattoos covered his body. Daryl wasn't too far off that himself. One would think the both of them would be in the dirty business—rowdy biker fellows or just redneck mobsters.

However, God had other plans for the two of them. Surprisingly enough, they run a respectable bodyguard and security business. Well, it started off just him, Merle, Rick and Shane—but they had expanded to a multimillion dollar company with clientele in the elite classes of society.

No matter what Merle did, Daryl couldn't stay angry at him. He was blood, and blood is always thicker than water.

Daryl casted Merle a disbelieving glare, "_Popos? _Haven't heard you say that in forever."

Merle smirked, "Well Darylena, guys like me gotta get in touch with our kids inside here." He pounded his chest and winked.

"Don't you mean to say, your 'inner-child'?" He glanced at his brother, who sputtered and a mock of hurt emotion adorned his face.

"Nah uh, baby bro. I say it how it is. Anyway, the popos- police, won't like us. They been sniffing on our tails since Shane slipped up that contract with them. Best bet, we go to their place and set things straight—the good ol' way. They won't call the police—they got a bounty on their heads too." He slammed a fist against his palm in front of his chest, a look of pure anticipation and glee played across his face.

Daryl wanted to put off that idea immediately—but it wasn't an _awful_ idea. It was a bad one, one he'll probably regret, but damn. He won't be the one to give up the opportunity to serve an asshole his plate of much deserved asskicking. "Fine. Don't do anything till I say so."

Merle grinned from ear to ear, pleased to hear his little brother's answer. "Will do, baby bro. Will do. He's at this address," he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Daryl.

Let the games begin.

...

It didn't take long for the brothers to pull in front of a bar in the _shadier_ side of town. There's the bad side, and there's the really, _really_ shady side. It was only three hours after noon, and already there were women in scantily clothes waving at them.

Ugh. He had a feeling he needed to burn his eyes to get rid of the scene before him—not the he could literally burn his eyes… or anything. He wasn't going to ever touch a prostitute again, not if he could help it. The thought of being able to punish the sorry excuse for a man for deceiving Merle and putting him in this predicament fueled him to look past the women and towards his destination.

Daryl stepped out of his vehicle and straightened out his suit. He stretched the muscles on the side of his neck by moving his head to the right, then left. With a huff, he loosened his shoulders and headed towards the entrance of the bar, with Merle in tow.

His hand barely gripped the paint chipped fake brass color door when a sudden sound flooded to his ears. A series of low thuds followed by a very high pitched screech. It sounded like—like flesh being pulverized. "Fuck is that?" Daryl whispered, not knowing if he hallucinated the sounds or if it were real.

"Nah, I heard it baby bro," Merle broke his stance behind him and cautiously headed toward the alleyway adjacent to the rundown bar.

Daryl released the handle and quickly followed his brother. Another screech, some voices and fabric tearing echoed down the alleyway—freezing both brothers in their steps. They paused, a grim and furious look spread across their face as they tossed a knowing look to each other.

Someone was getting assaulted. By the sounds of it, it didn't seem to be one victim.

_"No, don't hurt them please! It's not their fault, please… Please!"_

They strained their ears to catch the hopeless plea of a feminine voice. A crash of what sounded like a wooden chair shattering into segments pierced through the tension.

Not a second had passed before Daryl jolted into the alleyway, hellbent on going to make someone pay for hurting a woman. Merle was right behind him, both chasing the sounds of begging, and wood shattering.

The brothers broke into the small clearing, an area filled with black garbage bags, pallets and trash, just in time to see a man flinging a ratty looking chair at a hunched figure in the corner. There were two other men, one trapping a hysteric woman in his arms while his accomplice tore at her clothes.

The figure at the corner faltered on her knees, falling over onto the dirty ground with a cry. Seconds after the woman fell, a cry of a toddler echoed from the corner.

Two women, one child.

They were attacking the defenseless.

Daryl didn't know what provoked him more, the frightened cries of the toddler or the sneering laughter of the men. He saw red. He saw their ugly souls. He wanted their blood. Without much of a warning, Daryl leaped into action. Grabbing a fallen, leg segment of a chair he swung at the man who held another chair in the air, poised to hurl it at the defenseless woman and child.

He slammed the wooden leg against the assaulter's back, causing him to drop the chair and fall over. Daryl didn't stop there. He leaped forward, pinning the man by his throat against the floor with his grip as he landed blows to his face, relentlessly. Somewhere in his mind, he registered this face as familiar—he seen him before. It didn't matter.

In a matter of seconds, the small clearing turned into a chaotic mess with screeching, blood, yells and grunts of pain. Daryl's fists burned, but he didn't care. With a final punch to the man's nose, he went limp. In the background, he heard Merle fending off the two bigger males. He had one of them pinned, and the other rushed at him with what seemed like a crowbar.

Not a fucking chance, Daryl thought. He grabbed a nearby empty large garbage can and tossed it at the man behind Merle just before he was able to land a blow. Knocked off his feet, the man tried to get up but Merle didn't give him a chance. In those few seconds Daryl had given him, he had knocked out the bigger man and now, with a strong fist, he landed a final blow at the man on the ground.

Daryl and Merle panted, casting a few glances around to find all three men were knocked unconscious. "What the fuck was that?" he hissed at his older brother, who in returned shrugged. "Better make sure they ain't' dead."

"Mommy! Mommy!" the child wailed. In those few minutes, the woman who was pinned at the wall was soothing her toddler as she tried to help the smaller female onto her feet.

"Hush now baby. It's going to be okay," she then turned her attention to her friend. "Beth, Bethany!" She shook her small frame, hoping to illicit a response. But none came, she tried again, and this time a groan of pain echoed in the clearing.

"Oh God… Karen. Are you okay?" Her voice sounded weak and strained. "Bubba… Bubba?" She called out, reaching for the small toddler, who bawled in her arms as she embraced him on the floor.

Daryl gave the familiar looking man a final kick in the ribs before letting go. It annoyed him to no end that he couldn't remember where he saw these idiots. He casted a quick glance behind him, to make sure the women and child were conscious. He had to do a double take when he saw the mess of dirt covered blond hair. Despite his heart beating rapidly from the adrenaline in his veins, he felt his heart beat faster as recognition dawned onto him.

It was her. The girl from the hotel.

He held his breath as she lifted her head to meet his face, her pain filled eyes glistened with recognition as soon as her eyes met his. As if her whisper were cool breeze that passed through the small concrete covered clearing, it caressed his neck—causing him to shiver in response.

"Di… Dixon."

/

**JR**\- Sorry it took so long folks, had a lot of catching up to do!

Thanks for the reviews everyone! It's a new, dark concept but there will be a happy ending.. maybe? I'm not sure if I want to take this as a long story or a medium length one… I'll decide later.

.

Thanks for reading guys, please review!


	3. Freed

**Sweet Georgia Belle:  
Peaches and Cream**  
_Chapter 3  
[Freed]_

She was so naïve to believe that Jeff would be able to spend his money wisely—that she was safe to go out into the public for even a short while. She would've never accepted Karen's offer to spend the rest of the day with her and her son after breakfast had she been more careful. Maybe if she did refuse, maybe then, they would be safe and sound in Karen's apartment.

Like her, Karen started out in prostitution when she was barely of legal age. Like her, she was brutalized by her boyfriend and whatever men he brought home at the time. But unlike her, Karen was rescued by Joshua's dad—Tyreese. Unlike her, Karen was able to get out of the shitty situation when they got married six months ago. Unlike Karen, Beth believed she was going to either die as prostitute or beaten to death for trying to escape.

That is, until she saw _him _again.

Beth recognized him the moment her eyes fell upon his form. There was no mistaking the cold steel blue color of his eyes, his rustic dark brown hair and his deep baritone voice. For the second time this week, he saved her from Jeff's brutality. For the second time this week, she felt as if maybe, just maybe she can leave this life of hers behind.

"Di… Dixon," her soft stutter echoed in the clearing.

His eyes never broke contact with hers as he made his way over to her on the dirty concrete floor. There was something in his eyes she couldn't read though he seemed tense and rigid.

"You okay?" he crouched in front of her, his knee pressing against the concrete floor.

"Mhm…" she managed to reply, nodding her head stiffly. Truth be told, her back and arms ached. She has had worse beatings than this, but having wooden chairs tossed at her back was no walk in the park either. "I'll survive," she supplied, her voice wavering as she tried to ease herself into a standing position.

"Beth, I'm taking you to the hospital." She felt Karen's trembling hand on her shoulder, preventing her from getting up.

"No, no hospital. I'll be okay," Beth countered, her eyes still glued to his.

"She's right, princess. All of y'all need to go to the hospital after that shit. You okay, ma'am?" Another man walked up behind Daryl, and shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it over to Karen. "Name's Merle, this here nice fellar's big bro," he gave her a large grin before slapping his brother on the back.

Normally, Beth would scowl at the term 'Princess' but she hardly had the time to respond. Before she knew it, the sound of a gun reloading echoed behind the two men who rescued her, Karen and her son.

"You got some friends now, huh, Beth?"

She froze on the floor, thoughts of regret for these good men dying because of her. Knowing Jeff, he wouldn't bash an eye at murdering someone—not to mention that these men pulverized him, twice by one man.

The man, her last customer, Daryl raised his arms to the sides of his head, his voice firm and convincing he called to Jeff. "Easy there, pal. You don't want to do that," he said, slowly rising to his feet and turning around to face Jeff.

"Oh, lookie here. Sugar, isn't this that guy who fucked you last week? What are you doing here now, boy? Looking for a second go at my bitch?"

God, she wanted to smack that nasty smirk off of his bruised face. It didn't matter that she was stuck in this situation. What mattered to her was that he dragged two innocent people into this clearing and ordered his goonies to attack them too. An innocent woman and child. _ Her_ friends. It didn't matter that she was beaten by him nearly every week, what mattered was that he was aiming a gun at the only man who defended her dignity in over a year.

She wasn't going to let Daryl and his brother get killed because of her. She wouldn't be able to bear the guilt—it would kill whatever sanity she has left. "Jeff, leave them alone. You want me… I'll go with you… just don't hurt them," she didn't know how she managed to stand on her feet, but she did—unsteadily. She placed a bloody hand on Daryl's shoulder and slipped past him, shielding his body with hers.

"Put the gun down, Jeff… I'll go with you… don't hurt them… please," Beth bit back the sob that nearly slipped from her lips. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, threatening to fall any second now. "Please…"

"Shut the hell up, bitch!" Jeff sneered, alternating the gun point between her and Daryl's head. "Get your slutty ass over here, NOW!" He bellowed, pointing the gun to the ground right beside him before turning it back on her. "Before I kill everyone here!" His eye twinkled with a certain malicious gleam that she knew, would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

Beth took an unsteady step towards Jeff, thinking that today will be her last day on earth.

"Don't go," she heard Daryl whisper behind her, his calloused hand wrapping around her wrist.

"I have to," she turned to face him, her tears now falling freely from her eyes. "I can't get you guys killed. I can't live knowing I killed my best friend and," her voice cracked causing her to inhale sharply. "And you…"

"There are other ways to handle this… do you trust me?"

Beth stared at him through her blurred vision. Could she trust him? He hadn't given her any reason to not to trust him. What was he planning though… could she trust the validity of his plan? She continued to stare into his eyes, shining with determination and confidence. Still, she was hesitant.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass over here now!" Jeff bellowed at Beth, taking an angry step towards them.

Above Daryl's shoulders, she could see Karen's petrified face, carrying Joshua, peeping from behind Merle's protective body. Even her best friend and Bubba had to rely on the protection of a stranger because of her. All because of her. She returned her gaze to Daryl's face and shook her head, "It doesn't matter… I have to go."

She was half way from turning fully around and taking another step towards Jeff when Daryl's grip on her wrist tightened, and jerked her back to him.

"Just trust me. Alright?"

She felt his eyes burn his way into her soul, looking for that tiny shred of trust that she needed to put in him. Could she trust him? Maybe… she could trust him with her life only, but not the lives of Karen and Bubba. Could she really? Again, he didn't do anything for her to not trust him… so she nodded.

"Yes… I'll trust you," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. She saw him nod and allowed him to pull her behind him, shielding her with his own body.

"I got a deal for you," Daryl began, reaching into inner suit pocket. "How much?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? Just give me that bitch before I lay one in your head," Jeff snarled, jerking the gun angrily at Daryl's direction.

"She ain't going with you, so let's strike a deal. Right here, right now," he pulled out a checkbook, flipped a few pages and clicked his pen to expose the ink tip.

She could feel the blood in her body slowly freeze. Was this man going to offer money to Jeff? As if it'll solve this situation? How was she going to return money? Was she just being transferred from one evil to another?

"How much you offering?" Jeff nodded at the checkbook, his anger dying down a little.

"How much are you asking for?" Daryl countered, his voice never wavering.

"Five big ones. Thousand. Five thousand," Jeff jeered, possibly thinking that Daryl would never give him that much money for a prostitute.

"_Ten thousand_, and you leave Beth, this woman and her child alone. Us. Forever," Daryl demanded, pointing his pen at Jeff, he continued. "If I ever, find you harassing these people again I will make sure you get locked up in prison for life. You understand, me boy?"

"No, no! You can't do give him that much money. That's insane!" Beth cried, pulling at Daryl's arm for his attention. She was torn—she wanted her freedom from Jeff and his goonies but knowing that she'll owe her life to another man… it felt as if her life is a never-ending, vicious cycle. "Don't do this, Dixon. It's not… _I'm not_ worth ten thousand dollars," she begged.

He was ignoring her up until she mentioned her worth. He turned abruptly to face her; his hand with the pen gripped her wrist. He lowered his head down until he was a few mere inches away from touching their noses together—his eyes piercing into hers.

"You," he began in a harsh whisper, "you, your life is worth _far more_ than any amount of money. Don't _ever_ say you aren't worthy to live a free life."

Beth shook her head in self-doubt and disbelief, large tears cascading down her eyes. Her lips parted to tell him that it wasn't necessary, that she could handle herself but her words failed her. She watched mutedly as Daryl scribbled on his checkbook and tore out the piece of paper worth ten thousand dollars.

Jeff lowered his gun and headed towards them with an arrogant smug, "You sure, bud? She's really worth ten big ones to ya?"

Daryl held out the check, wedged between his index and middle finger. "You better write your name on there too. Oh and you best believe if you try to shoot any of us as we're leaving, you won't get a speck of dust from me even if you have this check. Got it?"

"Alright, bud. Whatever you say, man. You can have her," Jeff snickered and pulled the check from Daryl's fingers. "I'm sure am glad I got rid of this bitch, she ain't that good of a money maker anyway." He walked past Daryl and stopped besides Beth, looking at her. "Well, sugar. It's been one helluva ride. Been nice knowing ya," he rubbed a finger against her cheek, when she flinched he laughed and strolled into the alleyway as if he was strolling through the park.

Beth could hardly believe that was the last of Jeff. A part of her knew that the moment he was done with the ten thousand dollars, he would be back to harassing her or worse… Daryl. She felt numb—cold to her core. She didn't know what else to think other than the fact that she had been transferred to Daryl. What was he going to do with her? Should she go to the police and admit the whole thing? Wouldn't that put Daryl in a sticky situation as well?

While she was going through all the possibilities and worse case scenarios in her head, she felt Daryl's hand around her wrist again, pulling at her. Blindly, she followed.

"Bethany?" Karen's voice called out to her in concern.

Beth stopped walking to turn to face her, "I'll be okay Karen… I'll call you later… okay?"

"Are you sure?"

It was obvious that Karen worries for her, especially since she witnessed what Daryl and his brother could do, and she didn't know either one of them. Beth, however, didn't want to put anymore burden on Karen. If she stayed with her, there was a chance Jeff may come back and harm her and Bubba. "Yeah, Karen. I love you and I'll be okay. I'm sorry… for what happened to you and Joshua. I'll see you later, okay Bubba?" The young toddler in his mother's arms gave her a watery nod.

"Merle, can you take her and her son to the hospital to get them checked out?"

Beth turned to Daryl with a confused, curious frown. Why was he so generous and kind? Without giving her an answer or waiting for one from Merle, Beth allowed him to lead her to his car. He opened the passenger side door for her, but she was apprehensive to get in.

"Go on, we've got to get you cleaned up."

Beth shook her head, "I don't want to go to the hospital…"

She watched him sigh, dropping his head for a brief second before he looked up again. He walked around the car door and placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle push.

"We ain't going to the hospital, alright? We're just going to get you cleaned up."

After a moment of hesitating, Beth finally consented and eased herself onto the passenger seat. Daryl slammed her door shut before going around the front of the car to get into the driver's side. He was about to buckle his seatbelt when he glanced up at her. Without a warning, he closed the distance between them and reached over her shoulder, grabbing the seatbelt strap from behind her.

Beth sucked in a sharp breath, turning her head to avoid facing him so close. She didn't say a word when he buckled her seatbelt for her, and then his own before starting the engine and driving away. She said she said she'll trust him—so she shouldn't doubt his intentions.

She once believed there were good men out in the world before this mess she got herself into. After giving up on her pride… her life and allowing herself be a prostitute, she believed that no men out there were good. She believed that all men were dirty, perverted assholes only looking to satisfy their own greedy needs and not anyone else's.

And now… now… this man called Daryl Dixon and his brother saved her. He _freed_ her… for now. Maybe forever. This thought alone comforted her. Gone are the days of selling her body to continue living. Gone are the nights of lying awake in pain from the beatings. Those days were behind her now, and hopefully forever.

Knowing that, Beth was lulled asleep in her seat by the gentle rumble of his car with a small smile of hope on her battered face.

/

**J.R.** – Rescued! I hope it's not too hard to believe. Stay tuned for next chapter!

Thanks for reading, please review!


	4. Jobs

**Sweet Georgia Belle:  
Peaches and Cream**  
_Chapter 4  
[Jobs]_

Well, fuck.

Half way into the drive to his private home, he began feeling conflicted about the entire situation he was in. He practically just bought a prostitute from her pimp—essentially. Doesn't this make him her new pimp?

The very thought was laughable, out-worldly ridiculous. A part of him seethed when he offered the asshole _ten thousand_ dollars to keep him out of this girl's life. He didn't even know the girl, not in a friendly way at least, so why did he do it? He felt sorry for her though. No woman should live a life like that. And he'll be damned if he went around freeing prostitutes from their pimps. That shit's probably illegal too.

He groaned in annoyance at the impending headache that began to throb in his head. He hated these selfish thoughts running through his head. He should feel be glad that she was no longer a sex slave—which he was glad of, but he didn't need another burden in his life.

Women were nothing but nuisances and trouble. He has had enough of them for the rest of his life. From the way they only wanted him for his money to the way they schemed to become his next wife. It was ridiculous what women wanted from him. No, he had to make sure this girl was out of his life as soon as possible.

Daryl peeled into his driveway once he passed his security gate. The car jerked into an abrupt stop when he slammed on the breaks and shifted the gear to park.

The woman in his passenger set jerked away, shocked. Her eyes caught the scene outside the car—huge modern built house, a fountain in the front yard with neatly trimmed grass and hundreds of trees surrounding the property. She turned then, to look at him in question – fear apparent in her eyes.

He fought the urge to scoff; did she think he was going to eat her or something? With a sigh, he exited the vehicle and walked around to the passenger side to help her out. He knew she had questions, tons of them but he was in no mood to answer her.

In a business stand point, he was out of ten thousand dollars, which wasn't a great deal of money according to his profits. Then again, he wasn't the one to splurge or waste money on drugs and women like Merle did. Although, he had a feeling that this little lady wasn't going to let that go.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder and headed up the stairs and disappeared into the front door, leaving her behind. He didn't bother waiting for her—for a reason he didn't know, the sight of her unnerved him. The first aid kit was easy to find, but it was odd being in this house. He hadn't gone home very often since his last wife left him.

That was a story for another day, it was too long and exhausting to retell. He exited the first floor bathroom and found Beth standing very still in the middle of hall, looking like a lost and frightened puppy. He softened just a bit at her wide, sad eyes.

With a defeated sigh, he headed to Beth and began to reach out to grab her arm. She flinched away with her eyes clenched shut.

"I ain't gonna hurt you," he gruffed out, somewhat annoyed that she thought he was going to hit her. He couldn't blame her at all. Who knows how long she lived like a slave, subjecting herself to such horrors and torture. No woman should be subjected to that shit.

He studied her when she uncoiled from her grimace, standing in front of him with her head bowed. Her messy blonde hair was covered with dirt and dried leaves, her face had makeup smudged all over with black streaks of dried salty tears. Her clothes were less than decent—torn and exposed in places that should be covered.

Then he felt like an asshole, one just as big as the one who imprisoned her. He had no right to judge her. Not when he didn't know her. If anything, since he got her out of that situation, it was his responsibility to make sure she could stand on her own two feet and not fall back into that kind of shithole again.

"What… what would you like me to do?" her fearful voice might as well just grow arms and punch him in the gut.

She made it sound like he wanted her to have sex with him. Just what happened to this poor girl?

Daryl hissed, upset at her question. "I don't want you to shit to me. You need to go in that bathroom," he pointed at the room he just exited. "Shower, clean yourself up and let me know if you need to go to the damn hospital. I ain't going to let someone die in my house," he barked at her, none too kindly.

He saw her nod her head after a brief moment of hesitation. Without a word, she slipped past him and disappeared into the bathroom. _What an asshole_, he couldn't help but berate himself. He didn't mean to be, but the way she asked that question, it made him want to throw something. Break something only to break it some more until it turned into a pile of powder.

His nostrils flared from his agitated sigh. Was he too harsh on her? Damn it, he didn't mean to be. There was something about this woman that drove him nuts. With a groan, he stalked into the living room and tossed the first aid kit onto the white cushions of the sofa, not caring that it clattered loudly onto the floor.

This was a time as good as any to focus his frustration on his endless piles of work and not at a helpless, defenseless woman. He needed to clear his mind anyway. Shoving his hands in his pant pockets, he walked into his private study at the other end of the first floor and made himself busy.

-0-

Beth felt numb. She was grateful to be rescued, for a lack of a better term, from Jeff. What will she do now? She was sure Dixon wanted her to return his help—after all, weren't all men like that?

Then again, not all men would pay ten thousand dollars to save a girl. Her fingers gripped at the metallic knobs of the sink until her knuckles turned white. When did she start thinking that everyone around her wanted something from her? Oh that's right, from the year of being a sex slave. Pity. She had a long, hard look at herself.

Her reflection disgusted her. To say the least, she looked like a wild child. Crazy, frizzy hair, dirt covered face, black rimmed eyes… blood seeping from a cut above her cheekbone. She looked crazy—insane. A part of her wanted to hide in the corner and step out into the light. After all that she went through, after all that she had endured to keep her miserable life, could she ever live a normal life?

Her eyes peered deeply into the eyes that stared back through the mirror.

Lost. Alone. Helpless.

She had lost herself, truly. When was the last time she knew what she wanted from her life? When was the last time she believed she would find true love, get married and have little ones running around the house? The sad thing is, she couldn't remember herself.

The steam emitting from the hot shower she had turned on obscured her reflection as it fogged up the mirror. A soft sigh escaped her lips, it was inevitable. She had to clean herself up so she can face her judgment from Dixon. Somehow though, in the back of her mind, she knew there was a difference on what was about to happen between her and her rescuer and what she assumes will happen.

Dixon won't hurt her. He doesn't seem like the type, no matter how rough he looked on the outside. With her worries slightly alleviated for the moment, she stepped into the steaming hot shower, not caring that her cuts burned from the treatment and tried to scrub all remaining traces of her past from her body.

-0-

A soft knock of the door frame of his study pulled his attention away from his computer.

His eyes narrowed at the woman in front of him as she fidgeted under his gaze. He could feel the bile bubbling up throat at the sight of her current state.

Battered, bruised, abused, neglected.

From the mirage of bruises that covered her face to the bruise that surrounded her neck—he pitied her greatly. He was silent as he studied her, chewing on his bottom lip, deep in thought. Some of the bruises on her face held a tinge of yellow, some a deep hue of purple, telling him that there must not be a day where she was not been beaten. He would hate to see the rest of her body.

This isn't right. She didn't deserve that, she didn't deserve any of that.

He pushed himself off of his chair, sending it flying behind him before it was stopped by the bookcase. She jumped at the sound when a few books fell off the shelving and sprawled onto the floor. He didn't say a word to her; instead he grabbed her wrist and led her back into the large living room.

He retrieved the fallen first aid kit, and with Beth in tow, he sat her down on the couch.

His shoulders were tense—he felt frustrated for reasons he knew not. There was a scowl on his face and he didn't know how to stop feeling so agitated. He tore open an antiseptic ointment packet before dabbing it on a cottonswab and was about to dab it over the cut on her cheekbone until she stopped him.

"I… I can do it," she whispered, her trembling hands reached for the cotton swab.

Daryl swatted her hands away, ignoring her request and touched the tip of the swab on her cut. He gripped her chin to steady her head when she hissed and flinched away from the stinging pain. "Hold still," he ordered as he continued to apply the ointment on her cut. From what he could tell, she actually listened to him and stiffened like a rock as he checked over her face for other cuts.

Without all the makeup and hair products, he saw an ordinary girl. Even with the bruises marring her face, she was pleasing to the eyes. Without all the bruises on her face, he imagined her to be a church-going daddy's girl with straight A's and is on the honor roll. How did a girl like her get trapped as a sex slave?

With no other visible bleeding cuts he could see, he applied a Band-Aid over her cut and pulled back. It was then that he noticed she was wearing one of the white guest bathrobes from the bathroom. _Ah_, he thought. Her clothes were probably too dirty and damaged to be worn again.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he told her before he hurried up the stairs and into the master suite. It was odd being in this room—he hadn't stepped foot in here since the last time he spoke to his wife. Crossing the room to the closet, he pulled out one of his wife's tank top, black sweatpants and a t-shirt. Hell, he didn't know what to get her—these were basically the basics, right?

He returned to Beth shortly after gathering the articles of clothing, "They might be a little big on you. It's better than nothing." He placed the clothes on her lap, and shoved his hands in his pockets while waiting for her response.

She didn't say a thing. She simply stared at the clothes as if it'll grow teeth and bite her head off.

Finally, after an awkward minute of silence, she whispers, "Thank you."

He could hear the tears in her voice. Not again. He didn't know how to deal with crying women and prayed, _prayed_ she wouldn't start crying.

Well, his prayers weren't answered when he saw tears splattering onto the fabric on her lap. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes—after all, he knew she wasn't crying to gain pity. She didn't seem like the type.

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together before taking the seat next to her, unsure what to say to comfort her. "Uhm… are you… okay?" Fuck, that didn't sound awkward at all…

She nodded her head, wiping away the streaks of tears on her cheeks.

"So… uh…" he wasn't sure how to continue.

"How can I repay you for your kindness?" she whispered; her voice barely audible to his ears.

Daryl swallowed, a bit stunned at her forwardness. "I don't need payment. I just wanted to make sure… you got cleaned up before you left. I-"

"That's not what I meant," she interjected, looking up and staring into his eyes. "The ten thousand dollars… I… I need to return that money to you somehow."

"That's not important."

"Yes, it is. To me, it is. I can't—I can't live knowing that I owe someone that insane amount of money… it's not right," she sounded so dejected, defeated.

Daryl sighed, knowing this moment would come. She didn't seem like the type of girl to take the money and run. "I don't want anything from you," he offered. "You can leave through those doors without any obligations towards me," he pointed at the front door, his steel gaze never leaving hers.

"I'll return the money to you somehow."

He scoffed, "How? Where can you go? Back to that asshole? Do you have jobs lined up? Going back and screwing men for money ain't something I want to hear right now. "

An onslaught of new tears fell from her eyes; she looked to be hurt by his words. Damn, he felt like an asshole. Shit, he felt the urge to apologize. "Look… I-"

"I never said I was going back to that," she hissed. "I never asked for you to give that bastard ten grand so you can tell me how awful I've lived my life. I never asked for any of that! You have no right to judge me!"

Daryl held up his hands in defeat, "I'm sorry… I—I didn't … sorry."

A long, tense silence fell between them. He wanted to help her and that's the genuine truth. He worried though; that she would return to that life because that's probably all she has known for the past several years if not longer. He'll help her find a job…. Within his company if need be. Anything to help her get onto her feet. It was the only way to relieve his guilty conscience.

"Do you have any skills?" he started his questionnaire.

She shook her head, "Hardly… no. None that would deem me a good worker."

Things aren't looking up for her. "How old are you?"

She paused a moment then, her fingers fidgeted against each other on her lap. "Twenty…"

He resisted the urge to curse. She was so damn young—haven't had the chance to experience life and yet she had to live through all that shit. The more he knew about her, the more he felt he should see to her future. Damn his protective instincts. He sighed once more, perplexed. "Are there things you liked to do? I can see if I can get you a job for something you might be familiar with."

"Cook… I loved cooking when I was back home… I did the cleaning and cooking when Daddy was still alive," her voice trailed off into nothingness. Her eyes glazed over as she recalled those memories in her mind.

He saw the solemn smile that graced her swollen lips, it was so sad… so alone. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and pat her hair and to tell her everything will be alright. That's the thing though, he wasn't sure if things will ever be 'alright' for her ever again. Not since she lived through all that shit.

Well, a plus side is that she had a skill. Certainly, she was in no shape to join a culinary career and vaguely wondered if she wanted to work within a restaurant. Then again, she probably wouldn't want to be around people for a while.

He blew a sigh from his lips and bent his head towards his knees, rubbing his hands on his face. Cooking for her dad, huh? He couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. For the past five years, he'd been dining out or ordered catering. It wasn't as if he couldn't cook, just that he had no time with his busy schedule. He hardly came home—that was the major reason his marriages failed.

Then it dawned on him. It was an outrageous idea to trust a stranger like her, but there was no reason for him to distrust her. Not yet at least.

"Would you… like to work for me?"

"What?" her eyes widen as his words settled.

"Would you like to work for me, as a cook… housekeeper. You said you know how to cook. Without any other skills, you can live here with a regular salary as you work and build up your resume until you're ready to get back out in the world."

"Why… why are you doing this? You don't have to help me," she looked away from him, finding the coffee table more interesting than him.

Daryl shrugged, he didn't answer her. Truthfully, he didn't know the answer himself. The setting sun casted an orange glow into his living room, signaling the end of the day. He got up from his seat and turned the lights on, pausing there momentarily to catch his thoughts.

He offered her a genuine job, with no gimmicks of course. It was an outrageous idea, but damn, it was a hell of a lot better than the thought of her selling her body again.

"It's getting dark. There's a couple of spare bedrooms upstairs, take one of them and rest for tonight," he crossed the room and gripped the railing. "I'm serious about offering you a job as my housekeeper. This house… I don't have time to keep it clean and I can't trust others to keep it clean. You don't have to take it if you don't want to. But, at least sleep on it tonight."

He finished his words and headed up the stairs, leaving Beth sitting on the white sofa, dumbfounded. He caught her whisper as he reached the top of the staircase.

_ "Why would you trust me then…?"_

A humorless smile adorned his lips, and he shook his head. He headed to master suite's bathroom and prepared for to shower as he mulled on her question. What compelled him to do all that for that one little lady? Why should he trust her? Was it her sad eyes, or her bruised face?

'_I don't know … All I know is that… I don't want to see you hurt anymore…' _

/

**J.R.-** Another chap done! I still can't figure out if I want this to be fast paced or not. I know that my supernatural fic (Into the Light) will be fast paced, and my Canon universe (Take Me as I Am) will be a slow burn.

It's hard to decide!

Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review!


	5. Something Given, Something Gained

**Sweet Georgia Belle:  
Peaches and Cream**  
_Chapter 5  
[Something Given, Something Gained]_

This must be a dream.

Though her body ached in every way possible, she felt as if she was in paradise. She woke up to clean, baby blue sheets on a large bed with the softest mattress imaginable. Tan colored wooden furniture adorned the room with soft white curtains billowing from the breeze of the open window.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed… relaxed? Yes… this must be a dream. There was no way she would've let herself fall in such a deep sleep that she can't remember the place she woke up in. If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up from it. She didn't want to live her reality, the world where she had to sell her body to survive. What would her daddy say now?

Her daddy wouldn't say anything, instead he would try his damned best to take her out of this situation. Like what Daryl did.

Wait… Daryl? Dixon.

Beth shot up on the bed into a seating position; all traces of tranquility drained from her body as she reoriented herself to reality.

She was free. Freed by ten thousand dollars… from one of her previous clients. If she remembered correctly, he said she held no obligation to him—that she was free to go. But… is that the right thing to do? If she was truly free now, she had nowhere to go… except to Karen's. Even then, there's a risk of Jeff finding her at Karen's apartment and end up hurting mother and son because of her. After yesterday, she didn't want to hurt them anymore than she already did.

She owed Karen and Bubba an apology… desperately. Beth spotted a cordless phone on the nightstand and picked it up to call her. Karen picked up immediately, as if she knew it was Beth who was calling.

"_Are you okay, sugar? Where are you? Do you want me to come get you? How—_"

"Karen! I'm okay… calm down!" Beth couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the expense of her dearest friend. "I'm okay… I'm fine."

"_Okay, hon. Where are you? Are you with that man?"_

"Mhm, I'm at his house."

_"Oh god, Bethany Greene, don't tell me he's making you sleep with him! So help me God. Give me his address, I'm coming to get you!"_ Karen sounded none too happy.

"No, Karen. No… he didn't make me do anything. In fact, he's… nice. He offered me a job to work as his housekeeper until I can save enough money to get on my feet. It's so weird, Karen. He's helping me but I don't know why…"

_"Are you sure he's not taking advantage of you?"_

Beth laughed bitterly at the question, "Karen, I doubt someone like him wants to take advantage of a prostitute."

_"Honey, don't say that. You had to do that to survive—it doesn't define you. I know you better than that. You're better than that. And if he isn't trying to sweep you under and sell you to someone, I think he might be genuinely trying to help you."_

Beth's voice caught in her throat, tears welled up in her eyes. Karen always knew the right things to say to make her feel better, no matter the situation.

After a long moment's pause, Karen spoke up again.

"_Take it, Beth. Take his offer. Become his housekeeper for a little while. Get some money, and get the hell out of this place. You deserve so much more… I would hate to see you back to square one_."

"I don't know, Karen… I feel like I'm taking advantage of him," she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. Sniffling, she continued, "Besides, I can't just take his money and go. It's not right."

"_Well, save up the ten thousand dollars with whatever he pays you and then some. Pay him back and then, you'll be free to go… one hundred percent."_

Beth nibbled on her bottom lip, contemplating on idea. It wasn't a bad idea at all. She would be able to give back all the money he used on her, she could potentially gain a reference for jobs, gain some extra money on the side. Besides… she had nothing at her apartment for her anyway. Except for her documents. Oh. That might be an issue.

_"Beth?"_

"Yeah, I'm here… I think you're right Karen. Maybe it would be a good idea to be his housekeeper for a little while. I don't have any of my documents on me though. They're all at my apartment. I better go back and get them."

_"No way, sugar. I'll get them for you. Come by my house to pick them up. I don't want you going near that asshole ever again. I'll pick up some clothes for you too. Did you leave them in the same place you told me last time?"_

"Yeah, in the bottom left draw of my dresser, they all should be there. Are you sure about getting them for me? Jeff might find you…"

_"Don't worry about me hon. Will you be able to get here by noon?"_

Beth glanced at the clock, 8:15 am. She would have more than enough time even if she walked all the way from here… wherever here is. "Yeah, I'll stop by at 11. Thank you so much Karen… for everything," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"_I know, sug. I'm just glad you're getting a new lease on life. Stick to it honey. I know you can do it. Listen, I have to bring Bubba to daycare. I'll see you at my apartment at 11 o'clock, okay?" _

"'Kay," they exchanged their goodbyes and hung up. Beth let out a long sigh, sitting still on the edge of the bed with her feet running through the soft fluffy carpet. Karen made perfect sense. It would be difficult to find a job with her minimal high school education in the job market these days.

Maybe it is fate that brought Daryl Dixon to her… as corny as it sounded; he is her savior, her hero. She would be stupid if she let this opportunity to go away. And when she did save enough money… she'll change her name and leave the country. Maybe. It may take a long time, but taking Daryl's offer will be the first step to a brand new life.

No more selling her body… no more pain… no more men. The thought made her heart skip a beat, excited. Yes. Never again will she let a man into her heart like she did for Jeff. It was for the best.

"Okay, Beth… you can do this," she closed her eyes and nodded her head, giving herself some motivation. She placed the phone back into its receiver and made the bed, folding the blankets and sheets with the upmost care.

He may have offered her a job, but he didn't say he was going to hire her for sure. She had to make an impression. She slipped into the hallway and into the bathroom to freshen up. She noticed a toothbrush in an unopened case, resting near the porcelain sink.

Beth tilted her head to the side; her hand pressed against the cool door frame, and wondered if he had set it there for her last night. A small smile graced her face at the thoughtful gesture.

'This guy is something else…'

-0-

Daryl woke up with a start, shocked by the light streaming into the room through the uncovered windows. Groaning, he grabbed his cellphone and checked the time. 9:15 am. "Shit!" he hissed, grabbing his shirt and pants off the bed. He has a meeting with an important client in forty-five minutes. He was going to miss it if he didn't hurry his ass up now.

He raced out of the second guest bedroom, across the hallway and into the master bedroom, in his boxers. "Shit!" he cursed again when he realized his state of dress as he stared at his reflection in front of the walk in closet. Beth was in the other room; he sure hoped she didn't see his hairy ass running around in a frenzy half naked.

Ugh. He wouldn't be able to live that down. She might even think he's a psycho.

Despite his sour mood, he wasted no time in putting on a fresh suit and tie. Going into the main hallway's bathroom, he began cleaning up his face and mouth. He noticed the wetness of the sink and saw that the unopened toothbrush he left on the counter last night was not there anymore.

Beth must've used it. The corner of his lips twitched at the thought and wondered what she thought of it. He had the hardest time sleeping last night as he ran through the day's events through his head. He had cursed when he forgot to tell her where the extra toothbrushes were, instead of waking her up; he opted to put one where she would be able to see it. He was glad she used it. It was a start. To what though?

Anyway, he made quick work of finishing up his routine and rounded the corner. He knocked on Beth's guestroom's door. No response. Knocking again harder, he called her name.

"Beth?"

Still no response. He jiggled the doorknob to make sure it wasn't locked and entered through the door. Within, not a thing was misplaced. The bed was made, everything was clean. She wasn't in there.

He closed the door to the guestroom, perplexed. Did she leave?

Daryl made his way down the stairs, the smell of breakfast washed over his senses, making his mouth water. On the formal dining table sat a cup of still warm coffee, sugar, cream, a glass of water and a plate of pancake and eggs.

Daryl whistled loudly, impressed. He couldn't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal, let alone a freshly made pancakes from scratch. From what he remembered, his pantry and fridge was basically empty. She must've found what was left of the flour and eggs.

He was running late, but damn he didn't want to waste her efforts, and besides, his stomach was growling in anticipation for food. Sitting into the chair, he tore into the pancakes and drank his coffee black.

"Beth?" He called after he cleaned his plate and wiped his mouth. Still, no one answered him.

He then proceeded to check the kitchen, the yard, bathroom… nothing. There was no trace of her, as if she was never here to begin with. Well, she had to have been. The plate of breakfast and her discarded old clothes was from her.

His cellphone rang, Merle. "Yeah, I'm on my way. Just stall for me. I'll be there." He hung up without waiting for his brother to answer. He was probably pretty pissed at him. He was never late. Ever. Today was just one of those odd days.

He had twenty minutes to get to his company and secure another contract. He had no time to waste. With a gruff sigh, Daryl stalked over to the front door. He noticed his shoes were set out for him… hers were missing.

She must've left, he thought. Damn. He really thought she was smart enough to accept his offer. Ten thousand dollars didn't mean a whole lot to him… money was just money. The thought of her selling her body again—it was something he didn't want to come across again.

His day started out pretty shitty. It got better with her breakfast and now… it was shit all over again. With a hiss, Daryl left his home and jumped into his car and raced to work.

-0-

Well shit, if he didn't have to go home and back a few things for his week-long business trip tomorrow morning, he wouldn't have even bothered.

Pulling into the driveway, he noticed something was certainly out of the ordinary.

His house lights were on. "What the fuck?" he hissed. His day was pretty foul; the last thing he wanted to deal with was burglars. He left his car door open as he exited the vehicle, and popped up the trunk to take out his hunting crossbow. He had left it there since his last hunting trip, never made the effort to take it out of his trunk.

With his crossbow armed and ready, he slithered through the front door, not making a sound. He never locked the front door, no one ever bothered to visit except for Merle. Besides, his security gate needed a passcode to open. His gate and fences were at least seven feet high—someone must've been desperate to get in if they scaled the shit.

He heard clanging and footsteps echoing from where his kitchen may be. Still cautious, with his back against the side of the wall where the kitchen was, he inched closer and closer.

The soft bang sounded, and then the footsteps got closer and closer. He aimed his crossbow directly at the doorway, ready to attack whoever dared to intrude on his house. He was really wanting to say, 'You fucked with the wrong person today.'

The person walked past him at first without knowing, then turned around and screamed.

"Oh God!" Beth. The large bowl in her hands slipped from her grasp and shattered noisily onto the floor, splattering the contents everywhere.

"Fuck! Beth?" He tossed aside his crossbow and prayed to god that the contents in the bowl wasn't piping hot. No such luck.

Beth cried out and fell backwards, onto the wooden floor, clutching her left foot in pain.

"Shit," Daryl raced into the kitchen, skipping over the liquid mess on the floor and grabbed the closest wet kitchen towel. He slipped his hands under her shoulders and pulled her away from the mess on the floor. "Are you okay?" He pressed the wet cloth against her foot.

"No! Not really!" She sassed, frowning at him disapprovingly. "What were you thinking bringing in a crossbow? Were you trying to hunt me or something?!"

"It was an accident! I thought you were some burglar trying to steal my shit! How the hell was I supposed to know it was you? I thought you were long gone this morning!" He scowled back at her, checking her foot to make sure she wasn't bleeding from the shards of the glass bowl.

"But you still shouldn't creep up on people like that! God, I thought you were some psychopath serial killer!"

"This is _my_ house! I should be able to walk in here however the hell I want!" He hollered, his hands still tending to her foot. She had nothing to say then. _Good_, he thought.

Then she started to laugh.

He stared at her incredulously, she had an arm was propped up behind her, another pressed against her chest, her head tossed back as she laughed merrily.

Daryl had no idea why she was laughing but soon enough, he caught her contagious, tinkling laughter and he chuckled with her. The whole situation was absurd. He then realized his mistake, the entire house smelled like food. How the hell did he miss that fact?

Shit, burglars don't go to a person's home to cook. Upon that realization, he laughed harder at his own stupidity.

"Welcome… home?" he heard her say, their laughter dwindling down to smiles and chuckles.

He nodded in return and helped her onto her feet. "Can you walk?"

She smiled at him and giggled, "Yup. Just a light burn. It'll go away in a few minutes."

"Smells great in here," he nodded at the food on his dining table.

"Yeah, I wanted to surprise you… little did I know you were going to do the surprising," she laughed, stepping over the mess and into the kitchen.

Daryl felt his face redden in embarrassment. Shit. This was his house damnit! He'll never live this down.

"I'll clean this up and bring you a fresh bowl… I'm sorry I dropped it," she said in a sincere manner, folding her hands together rather nervously.

"Nah, I didn't know I even had it. I don't cook much," he started to clean up the mess. "I'll clean this up, go on and finish setting up the table."

"Yes sir," she responded, somewhat dutifully, all the mirth from seconds ago gone from her voice.

He froze in his spot on the floor. He didn't mean to sound like some dictator asshole, but he was unable to say anything else to her. She finished setting up the table just as he was done with cleaning.

"Dinner's ready," she said softly behind him.

"A'right, give me a sec," Daryl noticed she scurried out of the kitchen, as if afraid.

By the time he reached the dining table, he noticed that she had only set out enough utensils and plates for one person—him. She stood at the corner of the table, on the other end looking down at her feet and fidgeting her fingers against each other.

Daryl sighed, what happened to the laughing Beth he witnessed earlier? He rather liked the sound of her laugh—it sounded like tinkling bells and wind chimes. Besides, this shit wasn't going to fly with him. He wasn't going to eat alone while she slaved on the stove to cook him a meal, only to stand there while he ate his fill.

He turned around briskly and headed into the kitchen.

"D-did you need something?" she called out after him.

He didn't answer her and gathered extra bowls, plates and utensils with him. He ladled some soup into the bowl and returned the lid to the pot. He made sure he had everything before heading back into the dining room. Beth followed behind him, as quiet as a mouse.

He set the items down on the seat to the right of him, and then pulled out the chair.

"Sit." He nearly groaned at his choice of words. He honestly did not mean to order her around like some jackass. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to try to be a gentleman. "I mean uh… please have this seat?"

Beth frowned prettily at him. A part of him wondered what she would look like without bruises or makeup slathered over her face. Only time will tell, he supposed. Nonetheless, Beth sat on the chair as asked, and remained silent.

Daryl took his seat to the left of her and began digging into the food. My god. He would've groaned in sheer satisfaction at the taste of her food. If she wasn't sitting next to him, he would've—gladly too.

"Listen, Beth," he began after he noticed that she wasn't touching the plate he set down for her. "It would be much appreciated if you would eat with me… you cooked after all. I would feel like shit if I ate while you stood there… it won't fly by me."

She nodded in response, and then closed her eyes. She muttered a few words under her breath, followed by a very soft, "Amen."

Daryl stared at her, this was no ordinary girl. Despite all the shit she had gone through, she still blessed the Lord for her meal. It was something… weird… odd…. Something he hadn't done since his mama died.

Looking at her now, he saw a lot of his mama in her. Persevered through abuse, yet kept her faith in God until the moment she died. Maybe there was something unique about their situation… maybe she was sent to him by the man above to teach him a thing or two. Because the Lord knows, he has lived a blessed life so far.

He looked down at his plate then at Beth who was silently eating, and then a guilty sensation washed over him. Reaching over the table, Daryl grabbed her left hand with his right. "Would you like to say grace?"

He saw her eyes twinkle with surprise and delight. A part of him wanted to that light in her eyes to never fade away. Because she deserves to be happy, forever.

Holding her hand tighter in his, he closed his eyes and bowed his head. For the first time in over twenty years, he prepared himself to thank the Lord for his blessings. And this was all because of this woman named Beth.

/

**J.R.** – Something given, something gained! They are both broken in many ways… you'll see.

_Thanks for reading everyone! Please review! _


	6. Wedding Portrait

**Sweet Georgia Belle:  
Peaches and Cream**  
_Chapter 6  
[Wedding Portrait]_

Finally. Every inch of the house was finally scrubbed clean, organized, papers filed, refrigerator and pantry fully stocked, tiles polished, and the air smelled like jasmine and vanilla. It had taken her the entire week, but it was well worth it. Her employer's four bedrooms, three baths home looked better than the pictures on home-living magazines.

Beth scrubbed and cleaned until her muscles ached for hours on end only to wake up the next day to do it all over again. Truth be told, she hadn't expected Daryl's house to be so dusty. It wasn't unorganized to begin with; it just seemed empty—as if no one lived here. It was as if the house was just part of his assets and not so much an actual home to him.

It surprised her to see women's clothing in the large closet in the master suite. Then again, when she pondered on it, she recalled him handing her a set of women's clothes on the day he brought her to his house. She didn't mean to stick her nose into someone else's business, but the closet was covered in dust—almost as if the clothes haven't been touched for years. She didn't dare to think too much of it, she was here to be a housekeeper—to clean and cook. And clean she did. She kept everything in its original position as best as possible while she cleaned the large closet. Then, she was sure she stumbled on something she wasn't supposed to see.

A wedding portrait of a man, and a young toddler in a suit, and a flawless woman in a beautiful white wedding dress. The frame of the portrait was shattered; the beautiful wood had splintered off, severing the beautiful pattern that was carved upon it. The photo itself rested against the closet wall, crumbled and torn at the edges.

Beth had always had a curious trait—maybe it was one of her flaws. When she dared herself to take a closer peek at the large picture, her heart skipped a beat. It was him, Daryl. He had to be the groom. The woman and child—they must be his family. Then the million dollar question was; where were they? Why was Daryl living alone? They did leave him—or did he leave them?

The possibility of Daryl abandoning his family seemed almost impossible to her. From the brief time she spent with him, he seemed to be a respectable guy. Minus the sex with a prostitute part, of course. Which the other possible option was… maybe they did pass on.

And now, four hours after the discovery of the portrait, Beth had finished her surprise project for her boss.

"There," she wiped the plexiglass cover of the portrait's frame with a satisfied smile. She had ventured out into town to buy a new frame set—but none matched the beauty of the frame that had splintered. She had decided to gorilla-glue the pieces together as carefully and precisely as she could. It was not an easy task, but she managed somehow.

Beth took a step back from the hanging portrait. Sure, there was no question that the wooden frame was broken once, but dare she say it—it looked magnificent. It held a special charm. For the first time in months, she felt giddy. Excited. She could hardly imagine what sort of compliments Daryl would give her for her handiwork.

Today marked the day that Daryl would return from his business trip. She owed him a great deal ever since he _'freed'_ her from the shackles that had her bound to a life of slavery. It wasn't so much the money she was grateful for, it was the amount of trust he had given her—a mere stranger. On the morning he was due to leave; he gave her his credit card and told her he had notified the bank to approve the purchases. So whatever she needed to get to get her jobs done around the house, she had a means to purchase them.

She had never been a spend thrift, and the prospect of using someone else's money made her nervous. Instead, with what little money she saved up, she bought everything she needed. Though, his trust and sincerity touched her deeply, she just wasn't feeling too comfortable in using his money. The little black credit card remained on the kitchen counter, untouched.

6:30 pm. Daryl had called the house phone an hour ago, letting her know that he would be arriving around 7:30 with guests. With the house spotless, dinner almost all ready, it gave Beth enough time to change into more appropriate clothing to receive guests.

She remembered a time, years ago, when Daddy would have friends and family over. It was never appropriate to receive guests in pajamas—especially since the said guests were quite likely her employer's clients or friends. With that thought, Beth rushed up to her assigned bedroom and began rummaging through her clothes. Thankfully, Karen was able to bring all her essentials and a few spare articles of clothing before Jeff returned to her old apartment.

A cold chill brushed up her spine at the thought of her ex-boyfriend. There were nights she couldn't sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. She would dream of him and his deceptive ways… then of the deeds she had done at his violent demands. She knew she was safe here, in Daryl's house. The possibility of being hunted and discovered never strayed too far from her mind. She had been careful—hopefully.

She noticed her fingers trembling; her hands were cold and clammy. "No, I'm safe. I'm okay," Beth whispered to herself reassuringly. "No one will hurt you here, Bethany Greene. Get a hold of yourself," she said firmly, looking into her reflection of the vanity mirror. With a determined nod, Beth resumed her search for a suitable outfit.

A flash of black, green and white caught her eye. Beth smiled when she recognized the fabric. The colors belonged to a dress that her sister, Maggie had given her as a parting gift years ago. A part of her was shocked Karen was able to find that dress. Then again, it was probably the only decent dress she owned. With a smile and a sense of renewed energy, Beth donned on the knee-length garment and finished getting dressed.

It didn't take long to make herself presentable. With a small amount of time to spare, Beth headed down to the kitchen to finish dinner. She noticed the black credit card on the table and decided it would be a bad idea to leave it lying around, so she tucked it into one of the pockets on her dress. She'll have to return the card to Daryl when the guests leave.

Within minutes, she heard the front door open and the sound of men's voice flooded the hallway. The hallway was filled with the men's laughter as they entered. She could hear Daryl's low voice all the way from her position in the kitchen. An odd sensation of warmth spread from her toes and vibrated through every strand of hair on her body. The sound of his voice puts her senses on high alert—in a good way she supposed.

Laughter and happiness were almost always contagious; it was no exception in this case. Their laughter brought a smile to her face as she wiped her hands clean on the kitchen towels and headed into the hallway to greet her boss and his guests.

"Good evening," Beth greeted, the smile on her face wide and welcoming.

"Hello there?" one of Daryl's guests greeted, shocked.

"Oh man, I forgot to tell you guys," Daryl loosened his necktie, his back facing Beth. "I have a housekeeper. This is," he turned around, his hand gesturing to Beth while his gaze remained to his guests. He turned his head to face her; tired looking eyes froze when his eyes landed on her.

"This is… is…," he stammered, he appeared to be as shocked as his guests were.

A part of her wondered if her employer had forgotten her name. It wasn't possible right? He had only been gone for a week. Her smile fell; worried eyes stared at him in return. If he didn't remember her, would he kick her out of his house? Then… would she have to return to her hellish-past?

"Beth," he finally whispered. "This is Miss Beth Greene… my… housekeeper?"

"Yes," Beth added as to reassure him her identity. "My name _is_ Beth Greene. Welcome home, Mr. Dixon. Welcome," she added smiling to his guests. The sense of uncertainty that flooded her body just seconds ago faded away. She saw the recognition in his eyes. There was no way he had forgotten her. But why did Daryl appear so shocked at her appearance?

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she stared down at her dress and clasped her hands behind her lower back, the sense of uncertainty returning.

"Alright then Miss Greene, my name is Rick, Rick Grimes," he offered after he cleared his throat. The clean shaven male crossed the hallway with proud and sure steps towards her, his hand extended for a handshake.

Beth met his handshake meekly, shy and unsure about the close physical contact. Rick must've noticed and immediately took a step back after shaking her hand. She offered him a grateful smile, "Please, call me Beth."

"Then call me Rick," he grinned. "It's not every day we meet a beautiful woman in Daryl's house," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Beth's shy smile widened at his sincerity. "Thank you," she replied meekly.

Daryl's other guest stepped forward and offered his hand, "Shane Walsh."

She offered her hand to him, fully intending to shake it. "Pleasure to meet you." Truth be told, she wasn't sure why they were exchanging formalities—she was just a housekeeper after all. She had expected Shane to shake her extend hand, instead, he brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed it firmly.

Surprised at the intimate contact, Beth gasped and tried to snatch her hand back but Shane held it firmly in place. She stared with wide doe-like eyes as he smiled at her, his white teeth gleaming almost predatory-like from the ceiling light.

"The pleasure's all mine, Beth."

Beth swallowed thickly; a foreboding feeling crept up her spine. She pulled on her hand once more, but he wouldn't give. She swore he was just about to take a step closer to her, encroaching in her personal space before a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"She's off limits," Daryl all but growled, his stance tense.

As if a switch in Shane flipped, he shrugged and tossed his hands up at his sides in truce, "I was just being a gentleman. No harm, no foul. Is dinner ready, I'm starving!" He grinned, as if the tension between them meant little to him.

With a muted nod, Beth returned to the kitchen to serve the meal as Daryl led them to the dining room. The look Shane had given her earlier unnerved her. Judging from the way Daryl had reacted, it must've happened at least once before.

She served the meal without much fanfare and declined the offer of dining with them. Shane's eyes followed her as she served the meal while she was in the dining room—as if waiting for the right minute to pounce on her. Thankfully, Daryl and Rick was there. Thank goodness. At this point, she rather eat dinner in the kitchen standing than stay in the room with Shane.

-0-

The men had finished their meals and retreated into Daryl's study, leaving Beth to clean up in silence. For that, she was grateful. The thought of having Shane's predatory gaze on her again made her break out in a cold sweat.

Beth was just about done clearing the dining table when Shane stormed out of the room, nearly knocking her over in his blind rage.

"Shane!" Rick hollered after him, clutching their suit jackets. He casted Beth a weary glance. She didn't know what could've meant though. The two men left Daryl's residence with a slam of the front door without another word.

Beth tilted her head to the side, confused.

"Did you do this?"

She turned around to find Daryl holding onto the wedding portrait she fixed up just hours earlier, with a feral anger on his face. She was speechless— she could almost see the anger rolling off of him in waves. Suddenly, her sense of peace fell apart around her.

"I asked you a question," he hissed, his voice low and threatening.

Beth dropped the wash cloth onto the floor, stunned by the maliciousness in his voice. "Y… yes… I thought… you would like that…. I … I thought…" she stammered, unable to form words.

"You thought? What were you doing in that closet?" He hissed, taking heavy steps towards her around the dining table.

With every step he took, Beth scurried back double. "I was cleaning—I didn't know. I'm sorry…" Her voice sounded so vulnerable, so meek.

"Who told you that you could go in there, huh? This is my fucking house. You can't go rummaging through other people's private shit!"

"I thought they died… that you would like this hanging up somewhere!" She argued weakly in response.

"_You don't know shit_!" He bellowed, chucking the portrait onto the floor in a fit of anger.

Beth screamed and shielded her face as the frame shattered, sharp fragments flying in every direction. She ignored the sting of the shards that had cut her skin on her arms and cheek. All she could think of was to run.

_ Run. _

All she could see was Jeff's face when she looked up at where Daryl was supposed to be standing. She saw his heinous smirk and with the smirk, the promise of hours of torturous pain. No, she can't stay. She had to run. She must save herself.

_ Run, Beth… run._

And run she did. Without a second to spare, Beth sprinted to the door and into the driveway with tears falling freely from her eyes.

She had to go, go somewhere… anywhere but here.

Somewhere in her heart, the light that had sparked when Daryl saved her, extinguished. He… Daryl… he was just like Jeff. Like Shane… like Jeff. They are all the same. All men are evil…

Beth opened the electronic driveway gates without much thought and sprinted into the barren streets. She could hear Daryl calling for her, running after her.

_ "Beth! I'm sorry!"_

She cupped her hands over her ears to silence his cries as she continued to run. She had no destination, nowhere to go. She just needed to go somewhere. Away from him.

Beth rounded the corner of the street, unaware of the danger that lurked beyond.

Cold fingers gripped at her neck and a hand covered her mouth, muffling her cries for help. She struggled against her attacker, but the person was much stronger than she. Under the streetlamp, she saw a flash of a black shaggy hair before a sharp pain at the back of her skull rendered her unconscious.

/

**JR –** Oh… bad move Daryl! Hm… I wondered what happened between Daryl and Shane? :P

Who dares to kidnap our sweet Beth? Stay tuned!

Please Review!


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